


Domo Arigato

by Antrodemus



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anilingus, Coitus Interruptus, Frottage, Kink Meme, M/M, PWP, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 06:50:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13242816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antrodemus/pseuds/Antrodemus
Summary: Written for the Cap-Iron kink meme prompt: "Steve sneaks into SHIELD during the Civil War. Tony catches him--- but thinks he is the Steve Rogers LMD animated by a rudimentary AI for the purposes of easing the Director's tensions."





	Domo Arigato

“Wait, Iron Man defected during your Civil War? How did that even happen?”

Steve ducked a flying droid, then smashed it into a wall with the shield. Some things about meeting alternate-universe selves were amazing. Steve’s life had been pretty unique, and finally meeting someone who had _been_ there, who really knew what it was like was like stepping into the sunshine after a long, cold fight indoors. The very feeling of connection made the feeling of being shut out from that commonality was… the worst. This guy, this mirror-self, would never understand. “Well…”

****

He’d been on a sabotage mission. Fuck, it was unbelievably risky, but no-one knew Stark like he did, and Tony had, miraculously, forgotten to disable a crucial set of emergency access codes for his presumed-and-technically-actually-dead self. The gains they stood to make from that breach far outweighed any risk to Steve. Hell, to most of the world, he was a memory anyway, a post-mortem on some metal table in the sub-basement of a deeply-hidden lab, being sliced and diced and frappéed and rendered to figure out what uniqueness made the Super Serum another man’s poison. He was already as missed as he was going to be. No point in sparing a soldier that was already a casualty.

Their intel had said the lab would be empty and Stark--- he would not think of him as “Tony,” that way madness lay--- would be on the ground in D.C.

Their intel had been fucked. 

Tony would never have been able to sneak up on Steve on the best of days, but the gadget they’d given him to cloak him generated a sort of white-noise hum that masked even the vibration of footsteps through Steve’s boots. By the time he saw movement in the mirror in front of him, he’d been made. He forced himself to keep his muscles loose as he lifted his hands. He knew what would happen if he attacked Ton--- _Stark_ in the weapons lab. There were precautions.

He met Stark’s eyes in the mirror. There was no surprise in them, just weariness and a delayed-action, bleary smile. It figured. If he made it out of here, he’d spend a long night or three finding out whether their source knew that she was feeding them not juicy secrets, but bait--- and that meant he’d have to figure out who his source was.

He wasn’t going to make it out of here.

“I like it. Kudos. Never would have thought that changing up the outfit would take it past Uncanny Valleyville, but somehow… well, there you go, sometimes it’s the simple things. But we’ve got to get you into some cashmere. Not even you can pull off the softer side of Sears without looking like barbecue dad.”

And that was the problem with him and Tony. When they connected, it was like being one mind in two bodies, fighting, planning, reconnoitering… but sometimes, Tony (Stark, he reminded his rebellious mind) put up this wall of words, and… he’d go over them and make sense of them later, thank God for a eidetic memory and Starkipedia, but… yeah. No later here. 

“Oh, God, put your hands down, Threepeo, I know I’ve been jumpy lately, but it’s not that…” and his eyes slid to a barely-discernible patch of fresh paint. “Okay, point taken.Just… get over here.” And Stark held out his arms. 

For a second, Steve can’t breathe. That’s it? All they had to do was… stop? Get where they wanted, needed to go, and work backwards? Why not? He thought several happy blasphemies. Jess was right. _All hail Rogers III, imperial majesty of frozen confections and overthinking it._ He stepped forward, enfolding Tony in his arms. Finally. “God, I’ve missed you so much, Tony.” They rocked together. Tears prickled at his eyes.

Tony huffed into his neck. “Yeah, so it’s been a while. Little busy, here. Mmm, I know they said they were working on the smell thing, but God, you’re _perfect._ Lay a little epidurium on me, baby.” Wait. His worldview shifted as pieces slotted into place. _Uncanny Valley… Threepeo… epidurium._ Oh. _Decoy._ He barely had an instant before Tony pulled back, lazily aligning his mouth centimeters from Steve’s own, and Tony cocked an eyebrow. “I’m too tired to use a footrub tonight, Threepeo. Let’s just…” and Tony’s mouth covered his, devouring.

You don’t need a multiverse to split into many selves in response to infinite possibilities, not with Tony Stark’s mouth (finally, finally) on yours. Part of Steve snarled in outrage--- _a sex toy in his image? Really, Stark?_ \--- while part of him wanted to weep---- he was getting the one thing he had wanted more than any other, one wish he never even dared to think of, and this was so _wrong._ Part of him, the tactician that never shut up, sketched out possibilities the way a batter worked calculus to hit a fastball and told him _roll with it._ The probable consequences if he let himself freak out… the lives they lost would be just the beginning. And underneath it, roaring like a waterfall in sudden spring flood under Tony’s filthy, demanding mouth, was the clamor of _mine, mine…_ and the drumbeat of his heart a jolting echo in his cock as Tony’s breath hit his neck and he scraped his earlobe through his teeth. _In for a penny...fuck it._ Steve was shuddering and trembling already as he ripped the harness off that stupid, tacky (skin-tight, incredibly sexy) black body suit. Steve pushed him away, gasping, and he did something with his thumb to the neck of the suit… it fell open with ease. 

Tony’s mouth was warm and wet, the beard soft, the lips tasting faintly of old coffee and something uniquely _Tony_ , just exactly as he always knew it would be. He had to do something to keep from laughing, or crying, and eye contact would break him. He bent to take a nipple in his mouth, sucking at it and worrying it erect, outlining the shape of Tony’s cock against his pants, grazing it through the fabric with his fingernails. “Fuck,” Tony hissed, pulling Steve up to kiss him again, fucking his mouth with his tongue as Steve sucked eagerly at it. Tony’s erection ground against his as calloused hands slid into his pants. Steve cupped Tony’s ass, grinding, then easily hitched him up, Tony’s legs automatically locking around Steve's own. Tony’s head tilted back in startled, joyous, rusty laughter, and that almost tore Steve in two, part of him saying, I can’t do this, and part of him crying out with relief and the need that fed on it. The tactical part of Steve’s brain stepped in, telling him to lean in to Tony’s ear and whisper, “Bite me.”

Tony blinked. “What?” 

Steve swallowed. “Bite me. Hard. You can’t hurt me.”

Tony complied, biting Steve’s and sending electricity jolting through his limbs, grounding him. Then pulled back, his eyes narrowed. “Don’t recall programming you to be so bossy, Bob.”

 _What? Who…_ “Bob?”

“Battery-operated boyfriend. Christ, this is getting a little _too_ authentic, with you not getting my references. Look, BOB, the last time your type got sassy with me, it got beyond messy, so stuff it down, okay? Don't make this weird. ” 

Oh. Yes, Steve remembered. “Beyond messy” was an understatement. Right. He looked down at Tony with eyes dark with desire. “I’m sorry, Director. Can we get back to?”

“Nope. The moment is lost, Bob. Table.”

“What?” Steve could smell Tony’s desire, and he was sure he was making a wet spot on his jeans, but Tony unclasped and took a step back. His pupils were blown, his lips were red and shining with their spit, and he was panting in unison with Steve. Right. There was no lost moment here, and if Steve had to fight to get this back, then… he sank to his knees, eyes locked with Tony’s, licking his lips, sliding his hands down his thighs, making his meaning plain. “Tony…”

“Did you not hear me, or did the latest patch delete a critical subroutine? I want you to take off that awful shirt, and I want you to unbuckle your belt, undo your pants, and bend over that table.” 

The shiver that ran through Steve’s body had nothing to do with the temperature. He stood up and walked to the spot Tony was looking at, hanging his shirt neatly through the handle of a drawer nearby. Tony rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s in character, at least,” he muttered.

There were two faint dents on the far edge of the metal lab table, a little more than a meter apart. He put one hand over each dent, swallowing, unsurprised that the dents fit his hands perfectly. He was almost surprised that there weren’t cuffs (his cock bobbed at the thought). He swallowed. This was it. At least he didn’t have to see… no, wait, there was that damned mirror in front of them. He turned his face resolutely to the brushed steel surface of the table.

Hands slithered across his ass, pulled his pants and boxer-briefs down. Steve felt more exposed, more naked, than he could remember since… well since the day of Rebirth, the serum. Tony pushed his legs apart with a knee, murmuring encouragingly. And… knelt.

“Tony?” he said, voice cracking, as Tony kissed and nuzzled the globes of his ass. Then… the slithering sensation of the point of Tony’s tongue as it licked at his asshole was like nothing he’d every felt. His knees almost buckled as it gently pushed against him, waves of sensation overcoming him, dazzling him, pulling him apart, making him want, making him need… he whimpered and stammered, pleading, calling Tony’s name and clutched at the table, unable to move, unable to do anything but gasp and moan and come apart under Tony’s skillful tongue, crying out and shaking his head from side to side. “Tony… I’m gonna… you have to stop, I’m gonna… ah…” A hand snaked to wrap around his cock, paused. “One second,” Tony said. “I’m going to get… something…” Tony stood, leaned back,... 

The click behind Steve’s ear was exactly nothing like the click of a lube bottle being opened, and the muzzle pressed to his head was very much the opposite of Tony’s warm, pliant mouth. Steve raised his eyes to meet the Director’s snarling reflection. “That’s not factory-standard plumbing you’re packing, pal. You have twenty seconds to tell me who you are and who sent you before I have the forensics division pluck the answers off your smoking corpse.”

*****

"He.... didn't want a foot rub. On your left!" Steve yelped. His Nomad-clad counterpart dodged the--- ninja robot, really?--- and took it down handily. 

"Well, that's asinine. What kind of idiot doesn't want a foot rub? That-- oh. Oh!" Steve almost sagged in relief that he didn't have to explain further. Then, softly, "And that worked out?"

Steve tried to keep expression from his face. "You could say that."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Forgive me: I took some liberties with the programming, care, and feeding of LMD's. As far as I can tell, I'm by no means alone in this, and at least my liberties result in sticky porn. If my naughty muse gives me time for it next time, I'll do my research.
> 
> The "bad intel" came from Friday. After she got over that unfortunate crush on her boss, you know she shipped Stony _so hard_.
> 
> Sorry about the unsatisfactory conclusion. I'd like to give an evil laugh and pet my minions/ cat, but like many a comic-book supervillain, I am actually well-intentioned, wrote myself into a corner, and probably just need to sleep on things a bit.


End file.
